Absit Omen
by riskmykiss
Summary: As the City of Glass recoils from the shock of the after effects of the Alliance rune, Clary must face her own failure when all the world has fallen apart.  She must prove her innocence, reclaim Jace, and maybe, just maybe exact a little revenge.
1. 0 Introduction

**Introduction: **

My name is Sara and I'm a graduate student at Marshall University. That's right—that means I'm 26 years old. I've been writing for as long as I can remember (both my degrees will be Creative Writing) thus the written word is the most significant passion of my life. I'm allergic to cats, and my favorite color is Red : )

**Summary:**

My Mortal Instruments fanfic is set only a short year after "City of Glass" and deals with the consequences of the Alliance mark. Jace is now not just a Shadowhunter, but a hunter of Clary as well as she strikes out on her own to exact revenge on the Clave and to prove her innocence.


	2. Chapter 1: Valentines Daughter

Valentine's Daughter –Chapter 1

"_look on these works, ye mighty, and despair" _

_ Ozymandias, Percy Bysshe Shelley_

The City of Glass was shattering. All around her, Clary could feel its anguish as the once serene kingdom dissolved into chaos. The profile of the city blotted the horizon as though a distant photographic negative of itself. From her perch on the upper roof terrace of a building that brushed the outskirts of town, she watched the activity far below her. A stray tear meandered down her cheek unchecked as she searched the crowd for just a glimpse of the golden hair that was so dear to her heart.

After the battle with Valentine, after her encounter with the angel Raziel, and after the Mark of Cain, you would think a girl would learn not to mess with the supernatural. But, she, Clary, had been born with a gift. She, Clary, was Valentine's daughter. And it was starting to show. She tucked a lock of flame red hair behind her ear and tilted her head to the side contemplating her options. She could practically sense the destruction in this city. Destruction that had been all her doing. "Everything, my dear, has a price." It was like her brain was twisting like a wrung dishcloth. The words seeping out like toxic, filthy water. Oh yes, everything had its price. Even Alliance.

Clary paused to look at her arms where deep scratches marred the pale white skin. The stele would not undo the mark. She had tried countless options, setting stele to skin to undo Alliance. Over and over again, in desperation until the pain became to great and she could bear it no longer. But the bonds would not yield. There was no erasing Alliance. There was no edits or revisions. The thin red lines, blood oozing to the surface were just reminders of the consequences of her actions. Actions that she had never really thought through to begin with, that was the suggestion the Clave had made when the after effects of Alliance had started to show. The Clave had never been exactly what one would call understanding, now had they? They needed someone to blame, as they always did and it was easy enough to point the blame towards her. It struck her that the Clave could not have devised a more agonizing punishment.

10 months. 15 hours. 23 minutes. Who knew a heart could go that long? They had set him against her. The only person she had ever really trusted hunted her now like a dog. He, the prized Shadowhunter who had come back from the battle with Valentine a hero, and she, the exiled inexplicable witch that had emerged from the battle a villain in the eyes of the public. Despite her protests that it had been an accident, that she never meant to harm anyone, some had whispered that she was Valentine's daughter and this had been his plan all along. Nothing could erase the look Jace had given her when she had pleaded desperately in front of the Clave and the Shadowhunters that she was not guilty. He hadn't believed her. She had known the moment he turned his head away from her, shuttering out those brilliant eyes like blinds coming down from a window that he did not believe her. And yet, she carried the secret of Jace's mortal life granted from Raziel quietly, close to her heart, as though it were a precious gift he had given her.

Even now, marked a villain, exiled from those that she loved, hunted by the only man she'd ever love, she did not regret her request of Raziel. She'd rather Jace find her and turn her over to the Clave, let them deal out their worst, than ever see his body lifeless and void again. But could she ever forgive him? Only time would tell. Things were changing. Valentine had been right about one thing. The Clave was corrupt and she would be damned if she would go meekly away to await their orders. She had not really known what the Clave was capable of until they had dragged Luke's body out into the courtyard, riddled with the silver powder pock marks of torture and the silver bullet holes that had finally, mercifully, ripped his soul from his body. He died with his eyes open, staring up at the emerald sky. They hadn't even had the decency to close his eyes gently with two fingers and lay him to rest. They'd kept him in a half-transformed state, torturing him for information about her whereabouts. Treating him as though he were only half-human, only half alive. He had been their leader, and they betrayed him. And perhaps worst of all, how could Jace have been in that building, been in the care of the Lightwoods and not known? The Jace she loved would not have left Luke to die. Not ever. She had no way of knowing whether or not they had gotten to him though. In what ways, he had changed? Everyone was changing too fast. But, she had only Alliance to blame.

But Luke had loved her until the end. Her whole world was falling apart with the loss of Luke, and so many, countless others that had died because of her. And Simon. Dear merciful God, her Simon, how could she have been so stupid? She knew very little about the world she was left with, but she did know one thing for certain. If it was an enemy that the Clave desired, they had found it. Yes, everything has a price. But this time, she wouldn't be the one paying it.

A murmuring from below seemed to be swelling like a tide against the city walls. A shudder of surrender tore through the city and Clary mentally imagined a flawless, prized wine glass, almost delicate, spiraling in slow, agonizing motion to the ground. Then it was time to move. She ran quickly over the tops of the roof to gather speed and then with a barely suppressed scream dove headlong across the gap to the next roof. The mark she had drawn expertly in the crease of her elbow warmed to its use. She had to resist a surge of pleasure and a knowing, self-satisfied smirk as she realized her training with her gifts was paying off. They were working better, stronger, faster, with less and less side effects. She called this mark Flight. Still, the crowd was growing closer. Too close. And they had only had two things in their mouth: blood, and her name.


	3. Chapter 2: The Evidence of Things Unseen

The Evidence of Things Unseen-Chapter 2

Isabelle Lightwood paused for only a moment outside the decrepit building in New York City before gently lifting the latch to the gate and swinging it open. To an outsider, she might have looked almost normal. Her hair was tucked carelessly into a drooping bun, the ends poking out it like the sagging blooms of tulips full of rain. Lines etched across her young and otherwise pretty face. She was exhausted. Ever since she'd made the connection, she allowed herself to see now with the eyes of a Downworlder. And it was an ugly, ugly city from their eyes.

She squinted and tried to see the building as a mundane might. A plain brown building with row after row of warehouse windows leaning heavily on its foundation stones was the perfect disguise for this building. The Institute was not the only hidden functional building of the Clave in NYC, in fact, this was just one more of many. When she squinted again, the glamour faded and she saw the building for what it was. A squat building so shiny it almost seemed like spun steel in the sunlight. Spring was coming to NYC, but Isabelle could not feel the sun on her face. She thought absently that by now she should be able to smell the wind blowing in from Central Park, and the trash ripening on the street corners. But she was beyond sensory detail. Her heart was too heavy to notice.

A square wrought-iron sign was plastered over the forbidding gates, which read simply, "Ravenswood Home for the Mentally Incompetent." To the institutions credit, they had always welcomed Downworlder and Shadowhunter alike into their services, but it was not like they had very much choice. The Clave kept a close eye on who checked into this building. When she walked numbly down the hallway to room 423, she stopped again just outside the door and placed her palm against the solemn oak. Nothing, not one single thing in all of her years of training had ever prepared her for this. Gritting her teeth, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Jocelyn was sitting with a book open on her lap looking far older than she had only a few short months ago. In the bed beside her was Simon. The mark of Cain glowed gruesomely against his pale skin, as the IV dripped yet another blood transfusion into his body. It was the only thing keeping him alive. He was not capable of even feeding himself. He had moments of lucidity. Moments he would open his eyes and scream for Clary or even his mother then fall back onto the bed, too sick, too weak to do anything but convulse. And deep inside, Isabelle knew what drew him away from them. It was Clary's fault. Clary had Marked him with the curse of Cain. She knew why Simon screamed and shook uncontrollably whenever anyone tried to touch him. She knew why he cried late at night when he thought no one was there. Because when he opened his eyes, there was nothing there but darkness. Clary had blinded him. And he had retreated so far back into his mind, Isabelle wasn't sure they would ever find him again.

_"Oh Simon. Simon, dear, wake up now," a voice was tickling his nose with a feather. He sneezed and sat up. "My name is Celia. You've lost your way, you know. Otherwise, you wouldn't be asleep so soundly. Everyone loses their way sometimes," the voice said then dissolved into a fit of giggles. "Simon. You're such a pretty thing. Too bad, you aren't still human. You don't know what you are, do you, Simon?" the voice was laughing again but this time it was harsher, full of malice. _

_ Simon looked around dazed. His brain was pounding with the urgency of something that needed to be done. He was supposed to be somewhere. "What time is it?" he murmured softly. _

_ "Time? Silly boy, there's no time anymore. You're not quite dead, you know." Celia laughed and then rolled in the sweet-smelling grass he'd been lying in. _

_ "What….I mean, Who….are you?" Simon said finally getting a good look at Celia. She was a pixie. He thought. Maybe, a pixie, she had finely sharpened teeth and small, square shaped eyes that were too large for her too innocent face. But when she turned her head, he recoiled from her in shock and fear. The entire left side of her face was drained of life. She was blind in one eye, and her skin was a sallow, yellowing color. He resisted the urge to gag. _

_ "And who are you to judge me, you nasty boy," Celia hissed angrily. "You'll never be anything more than what you are. You're out of time, Simon. And you're not quite dead, didn't you know?" she said her voice softening to a sing-song voice. _

_ Simon shook his head and looked all around him. Trees bloomed in the distance with long willowy stems that looked like the end of Isabelle's whip. _

"ISABELLE," Simon shouted shooting straight up in the bed, nearly tearing the IV from his arm.

"Simon. Simon," Isabelle ran to his side and took his hand, her heart slamming into the back of her teeth. Had he recognized her? Was he coming around? She was shivering from her head to her toes, nearly quivering with excitement. Maybe this nightmare was about to be over.

"Simon, I'm right here with you," she said slowly. But Simon opened his eyes and moved all around the room, unable to see, unable to find her hovering voice in the stillness of the room. It wasn't until he glanced at her accidentally with a terrible unknowing blankness in his luminous eyes that the hope began to drain out of hers.


	4. Chapter 3: Glitter and Steel

Glitter & Steel-Chapter 3

"_To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."_

_-e.e. cummings_

They say there is no rest for the wicked. Well that was certainly proving to be true, Magnus thought grimly to himself as he swept regally into his loft. The place was truly feeling the neglect of his absence. Graffiti had been plastered all over the elegant hand painted doors he had special ordered from an artisan in Paris. He blew out a short long-suffering sigh and tried not to think about the cost of repairing them. He had problems enough as it was.

The time had come to discover whether or not someone could kill with love. The Alliance rune bound them. But the rune had crept into their skin and poisoned them, no…that was the worst of it. Poisoned Alec. However much, he liked to let Alec believe, he had always known he was the stronger of the pair. Magnus was older, had learned to live and he loved himself. There was nothing about himself that Alec truly loved, and it made him an easy mark for the destructive power of the Alliance. He was dying to himself, all the things that made him unique or special draining out of the marrow from his bones. He was watching the life pour out of Alec like water tipping out of a vessel. And the weaker Alec got, the stronger Magnus' power became. What tragic irony. In the City of Glass, they were calling it the wasting disease. Like the Black Plague back to revisit its vengeance on the unsuspecting weaker specimens of the world, one by one those Shadowhunters aligned with Downworlders fell victim to it. There was no way to cure it yet. And Clary had gone into hiding. Not that he much blamed her, he thought to himself quirking an eyebrow. He'd even helped her. Because she didn't deserve what the Clave had in store for her, because he didn't believe in making martyrs of war heroes. He'd seen the look on Jace's face when they'd brought him back, that little git had no idea what had happened on the battlefield. In his heart of increasingly black hearts, he knew Clary had been the real hero of that day. And he'd be damned if he'd let her get sacrificed on the altar of the Clave's ego.

Magnus barely heard the crunching glass under his feet as he walked nimbly and catlike over to the huge windows he had installed to overlook the city. Had it not been so long ago that he had first entertained them here. Had it been such a short time ago that Alec had come shuffling sullenly into his life, a world of sorrow and insecurity buried in the arctic chips of his crystalline eyes? Magnus had taken one look at him and felt a stirring of something long dead in his body, like the first brush of winter's feathery snowfall moving in his body when he'd looked at Alec. He was meant to hold him. Meant to protect and love him. But how does one save a man from himself?

Magnus brushed a strand of ebon hair from his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool window pane, closing his eyes as if those cat-like slits could shut out the world and all the pain within it. But nobody knew better than he did that the world always found it's way back in like rain dampening the cement of the city streets.


	5. Chapter 4: One Part Shadow

One Part Shadow-Two Parts Dawn-Chapter 4

_I believe that this life is not all; neither the beginning nor the end. I believe while I tremble; I trust while I weep._

_-Charlotte Bronte _

_ "_Clarissa Fray, you will not walk away from me," the voice was a smoky melody drifting seductively smooth from the darkened alley. Clary had thought herself a shadow, unseen in the cool, collected edges of the night. But the voice froze her insides , neither mundane nor Downworlder, but achingly familiar nonetheless. Clary pressed her back against the brick and ran her fingers lightly over the stele, fear a palpable thing hovering between them.

"Who's there?" she hissed.

A resonant ghost of a chuckle greeted her defiant words. "You're pretending a bravery you do not feel," the voice said smoothly.

"Which will not stop me from defending myself against an arrogant coward who cloaks himself in darkness," she said lifting her chin a notch.

A sigh of breath returned her threat and the voice answered, "Which is why I've come to help you, Clarissa. You must know by now, you can't do it alone." The voice detached from the night and connected to a figure that stepped regally into the languid pool of a streetlight.

Clary had to resist the urge to gasp and inadvertently reveal her true reaction to the boy who now stood bathed in the light. He was tall with a broad chest that tapered to a narrow waist. Taller than Jace. But there was none of Jace's rugged handsome features reflected in the finely boned outline of his profile. He looked delicate, almost fragile, but power hummed like electricity in his blood. He was so beautiful it was almost painful to look at for too long, like staring head on into the unblinking eye of the sun. He looked regal, like an artist or musician, not a warrior with gentle hands and long fingers. Unusual violet eyes blinked back at her as he seemed to assess her in one long, meaningful stare. He was not aware, it seemed, of societal cues and stared at her openly, completely frank in his gaze. He was dressed strangely. Black pants-normal enough, but an open ruffled peasant's shirt, snowy white.

Clary wanted to giggle. He turned his hawk-like profile and his hair rippled in the light, longer than was considered fashionable, even for shaggy haired boys. It fell in a great sheath or wave to his waist and glistened like sheeted steel in the streetlight. He was intense. Breath-taking in his ethereal beauty, but she sensed the throb of danger beneath his calm exterior. He reminded her of deep water she'd once fallen into as a child. She thought of herself kicking and screaming, sinking ever faster as she fought until Luke had fished her out with apologetic grin. Luke sent a stab of pain lancing through her torso. Yes, this boy was deep water. A person could drown in those depths.

"You find my attire amusing, Clarissa?" he asked arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Out-dated was more my thoughts," she said sullenly.

"Forgive me, it's been sometime since I've had need of this form," he acknowledged with a barely perceptible nod.

"Right. So who are you again?"

"In good time, Clarissa. For now, we should take shelter before the rains come," he said solemnly.

"Are you insane? It's been hot all day. I've got more important things to deal with than. . ." Clary stopped abruptly as the first splash of a raindrop hit her nose.

The man studied her face with an air of detached boredom.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she asked suspiciously again feeling for the stele.

"Close your eyes. Use your gifts. Seek out my nature. You know you can trust me because you know me. Know my very voice, my spirit, aura. You of all your peers know me like no other," he said his voice filling with the lulling harmony of someone completely assured of themselves.

Clary looked miserably around. It was raining in earnest now. The fat droplets seeping into her hair and clothes, making her shiver in the still springtime chill of the evening. The man never left her face with his luminous unblinking violet eyes.

"Ok...ok...but I'm only trusting you because I have no other choice,"

"Wrong, Clarissa. There is always a choice," he said deceptively soft.

"Well if you're going to insist on being all wise and distant like some kind of emo-Yoda, is there at least something I can call you?" she said impatiently.

"What would you like to call me?" he asked politely.

"Ha. Where would you like for me to start?" she snapped.

He looked her over again studying her without speaking and Clary instantly felt ashamed. His was the first face that hadn't tried to hex or maim her in the last twenty-four hours, she could at least be cordial.

"You may call me Veil," he said finally.

Clary snorted indelicately and moved to follow him.

"What kind of a name is Veil?"

"The kind someone named Clarissa is in no position to judge," he said in his soft, song-like voice.

Clary soon realized she would have no time to make snide comments as just keeping up with his long, unreserved stride was nearly impossible. He moved ghostly quiet and his graceful steps made her feel gangly and awkward by comparison. But for the first night in too many, she felt a little bit safer. Almost as safe as the night Jace. . . No. Those nights were gone. Silently, she did her best to keep up with the enigmatic boy who seemed part shadow and part glorious light.

**A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying the new character, although don't worry, he's not exactly "new" : ) You'll recognize him soon enough. He IS however modeled after a stereotype of a man that I think is just plain dreamy. Enjoy, dear readers! **

** I owe a great deal to my friend StarryOwlEyes. She writes a MAlec story called "Center of the Sun" So please, please check her out. She's got major skills : ) **

** Also. Please. Please. Please. Review. It encourages me to keep going : ) **


	6. Chapter 5: Undone

_"Can you lie next to her and confess your love? As well as your folly._

_Can you kneel before the king? And say, "I"m clean, I'm clean." _

_But tell me now, where was my fault? In loving you with my whole heart.'_

_ "White Blank Page-Mumford & Sons_

Jace Wayland was being hunted. He stood on the edge of Magnus Bane's balcony and stared openly at the crowd shuffling indifferently past. Her scent was rising in the cool spring breeze, up from the dirt and decay of the streets below, up from the suffocating ennui echoing in the passerby's footsteps. He clenched and unclenched his fist staring moodily out over the edge. He was afraid to recall her face into his senses, but so much more afraid to forget. Even now, the lines of her face blurred along the edges and into the far off distance of memory. They were calling her a villain, a killer. He conjured her eyes in his mind's eye and tried to imagine her a killer.

Quietly, Magnus stepped through the sliding doors and leaned against the panels of glass with his arms crossed, wearily watching Jace through the slits of his cat's eyes. He still was not particularly fond of Jace Wayland. Despite Alec's attachment to him, and maybe, he conceded thoughtfully, a little because of Alec's attachment, he could never completely side with him. It pleased him enormously to get Jace riled up because it was no less than the arrogant little fool deserved. And he had to angle himself so he could look back through the townhouse and be able to see Alec sleeping in his bed. Alec sleeping in his bed. He repeated it just because it sent little shivers of happiness all through his body to say.

The warrior's instincts in Jace acknowledged that he was no longer alone on the narrow balcony, but he made no move to appear discomforted. How could he ever forgive Clary if something happened to Alec? His oldest friend. Maybe she was the killer they said she was. How was he to know what happened? He couldn't remember any of it, but something ever since then had been tugging at the frayed edges of his consciousness. There was something he was missing from that night. Something he should be remembering.

"So the dashing hero returns. How may I welcome you to my humble abode?," Magnus said his voice dripping with laconic venom.

"I'm just here to see Alec before I head out to the streets to start the search for Clary. Let 's not argue with Alec being so sick, ok?"

"And what makes you think Clary will be in New York?" Magnus said incredulously.

"We got a tip that she was came here after Luke's burial. That she arrived her mysteriously through a portal. A magical portal from Idris that only a very powerful warlock would be able to make," Jace said looking steadily at Magnus

He lifted an eyebrow and smirked, "Well that's the handy thing about magic for hire, it doesn't have the same sting as when everyone who should love you abandons you." He stared at Jace with open accusation, unflinching even when Jace's normally handsome face faded to an unbecoming red.

"You know, in order to prove my lack of involvement with the Incident and to reestablish myself with the Clave, I've been ordained to find her for questioning, he said slowly and then with a fierce glare he said, "and if you know where she's at, I am ordering you to tell me." The heat was rising in Jace's face and his heart hammering. Clary had been more clever than he'd given her credit for, she had veritably managed to disappear entirely. Magnus Bane was the only lead he had and he didn't care who it hurt to exploit that lead. He had to find her, even just to see her for a moment. But the thought caused him to look guiltily in the direction of Alec's barely stirring sleeping form. Magnus only caught the movement of Jace's eyes but in that moment something feral and terrible ignited in his cat like orbs. He uncoiled his body like a tightly wound spring and took a menacing step forward.

"I think it's time we cleared some things up-Jace," Magnus began. It was not the words that seemed to insinuate danger but the shuttered, collected fringe of ice that laced each word that sent a tremor of warning down Jace's spine.

"Incidentally, I will not betray my friends and those have treated me with kindness, fought by my side, just so you can be the Clave's right-hand pig," Magnus enunciated each syllable carefully, his eyes fixed on Jace like a lion on its prey.

"You've got no right to stand in the way of the Clave's wishes," Jace spat barely able to keep his voice down, "and if you don't start complying, you'll regret..."Jace didn't get the words out before Magnus was inches from his face, the white-hot blue sparks just beginning to form at his fingertips.

"Wayland, you should know, I tolerate you for Alec's sake. I tolerate you as a lion tolerates a troublesome fly in the African summer sun. But you seemed to have enjoyed my tolerance for too long," Magnus was letting the pulse of blue flames build when he finally said, "Don't ever presume to threaten me. I'm one of the oldest, and most high warlocks left and you are a little boy pretending to be Superman."

"Magnus?" the voice was faint but steady from the sliding door.

Magnus whirled and all the steel left his face. Alec was a scant slip of himself pretending he didn't need to lean on the door jamb for support. Magnus thought he looked ten years old with ruffled hair and pajama pants on. He was a shade hovering on the brink of life. He was 90 lbs. and bleak, accusing eyes studying the pair of them.

"Feeling better," Magnus said careful to keep the desperate hope out of his voice.

"I heard you, I think, or no..." Alec studied his palms, "I felt you. You were so angry."

"Oh no, don't worry, Jace was just here to visit you. He's very anxious to see you." Magnus smiled and crossed the distance between them. He couldn't resist reaching out to touch Alec lightly on the hair. Then he opened the sliding door to leave the two in privacy. His heart felt like soaring. This was the first time Alec had stood in weeks. And he'd seen him before he had seen Jace. There was that satisfaction.

"Magnus. Don't you dare walk away from me if you know where she's at," Jace growled one final time.

Magnus turned slowly to look Jace cynically up and down as though he was deeply unimpressed with what he saw.

"You say you love her? Why can't you sense her? Or is that too _mundane_ for a big, bad Shadowhunter?" he sneered. "Or if you really love her, why don't you prove it and leave her the hell alone," he said and swept inside with the grace of a king dismissing a footman.

"Jace grit his teeth and slammed his fist into the balcony railing while Alec looked from Jace to Magnus' retreating form in miserable confusion.

**A/N: SO Yay! I've been wanting to write a confrontation between Magnus and Jace for QUITE some time. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. So while I'm incredibly busy these days with my own writing, I've really been very excited to continue with Absit Omen. **

** Don't forget to check out the work of StarryOwlEyes. Also there are rumors of a collaboration coming soon? Don't hold me to it, but we'll just have to see. And a big thank you to all those who reviewed this last chapter! Reviews really make it worthwhile and inspire me to keep writing. I like to know your thoughts about what you've seen and I welcome all feedback. Jace will be catching up to Clary very soon- so stay tuned. **


	7. Chapter 6: Reprieve

Chapter 6: **The Washer-Woman**

_**His answer trickled through my head like water through a sieve**_  
Lewis Carroll

Simon had been walking for hours. That wasn't actually quite true, if he still understood the natural order of things he would have called it hours, but there was nothing ostensibly changed about the atmosphere to indicate the passage of time. The sun neither rolled over the open plain of the sky, nor did the clouds chase each other merrily along. Simon had the strangest sensation of being stuck in a photograph. As if her were the only thing that moved. It was unsettling. Yet, there was the dandelion he'd paused to scoop up in his palm several hours ago.

Presently, as Simon lost hope, he sat down in the middle of the road, contemplating the strange woman who had woken him from a sound sleep. She had said nothing that made sense, but so far she was the only life form he'd encountered other than himself. Well, half-life form, he grimaced. He was tired. Bone weary despite his super strength. He rubbed absently at the rune. Cain's rune. There was something special abouti t. He should know something about it. What was special about Cain's rune? Why couldn't he remember?

"Oh, very bad-bad-bad. Some things we can't wash off. Like oil in a terry cloth. Nothing but bleach will take an oil-based stain out," a voice clucked near his left side. He jumped, and bared his fangs. So, he was on edge too. Perfect. A woman with a hump on her back was stooped low, inspecting him intensely through a single glass eye that was busily humming with foggy activity. It was the first real movement he'd seen in awhile and it nearly sickened him that he could be so excited.

"Hey, look, I don't know what's going on. Where am I?"

The woman clucked through her teeth and used her gnarled fingers to pry open a nut-shaped object before tearing out it's meat with one abnormally long index fingernail.

"Alas, Alas. The dirty one's always ask the wrong questions," she clucked to herself angrily.

"Ma'am. Let's start over. I'm Simon. You are?" he said trying to inject authority in his voice. Instead of sounding dutifully impressed, the woman broke into cackles, "Look at that stain on you, boy, you're not Simon. You'll never wash that off of you will you boy? You're not Simon. You'll never wash that off will you, boy? Not with soap. Not with lye or the stinking clean of acid. Some spots don't wash off, do they Cain?" the woman said hissing as she spoke of that cursed brother.

"Me, I'm just the poor old washer-woman. I'll scrub out your darkness. I'll scourge away your filth. I'm the washer-woman, Cain. You know me from the old days, from the time I came to you and laved the blood from your fingertips." the woman chortled with delight.

"No, ma'am you've got it all wrong. I'm not Cain. I'm Simon, he said softly chilled by her blood-thirsty laughter.

"Oh Cain, you have not embraced it yet. Perhaps you still cling to that foolish slip of a girl who does not know herself. She won't make it out without a purpose. She's covered in the muck. Little temptress should scrub until it bleeds, but oh, Cain, some stains are deeper than skin. We know that, don't we Cain?" the woman paused to dance provocatively on the road side.

"Wait. You're talking about Izzy, aren't you?" Simon said desperately, "Do you know where she is? Is she alone? Is she hurt?"

"Can't you hear, boy?" the woman snapped.

"_Dear God, I'm so exhausted with losing the people I love. Don't take Simon. He did not deserve the mark, surely you, Dear God can undo the damage. Heal my brother, Heal my friend because I think, I think,..." _Isabelle's voice was creeping between the blades of grass, still and haunted as the unstirring landscape.

"Oh Izzy," Simon moaned softly, "Washer-woman, am I in hell?" He could not completely quell the note of fear in his voice.

"Dirty things always ask the wrong questions," she spit angrily. "This is a room. A room of waiting. See how nothing changes. This is not _yet_ hell," she said glaring at him from the boiling marble she used for an eye.

"Washer-woman, Izzy's not really here though, right? I mean that voice, praying, that's like a hologram or something right?"

"What a foolish _filthy_ creature," she hissed, "Do you think that because she cannot see the room, she does not dwell here too?"

"But Washer-Woman that doesn't make any sense! We are sitting in the middle of the open road. There are no walls. This can't be a _room_." Simon said logically, pushing up glasses that were no longer there in frustration.

The Washer-Woman cackled and stooped low to get her already unsteady balance and to readjust the staring orb.

"Didn't you know, Cain? All the world's a _**cage**_**,**"


	8. Chapter 7: The Falcon's Ghost

Chapter 7-The Falcon's Ghost

"Clarissa. Focus. Now, again."

Clary was bent double with her hands on her knees, her chest heaving.

"But, I...don't...understand...why," she protested her words punctuated by gasps for air.

"Because if Jace Wayland caught up to you right now, he'd have you pig-tied in no time at all. It's only sheer dumb luck and his apparently appalling sense of timing that has protected you thus far, " Veil said his lips curving into a condescending sneer.

"It's hog-tied, freak of nature, people say hog-tied," she said rolling her eyes.

"Language amongst mundanes changes so fast, it is a fool's errand to keep up with it," he said narrowing his eyes. "Now, please, Clarissa focus on actually hitting the target this time."

Clary straightened her spine and clenched her teeth. She'd hit his fucking target alright. With a growl of exertion she lunged forward and swung the sword Veil had mysteriously produced at the target. It had been three agonizing weeks with Veil, but she had to admit, he was better company than the street rats running wild between the buildings at night. She no longer felt as though she was running from something, but rather that together they were working towards an end. But she still could not say what that end was. Veil switched the locations of their training daily. One day they'd snuck into an abandoned traveling carnival, today they were thirty nine stories up in the abandoned floor of a condemned skyscraper. Glass windows let in brilliant sunlight that retracted and bounced off of any object that came into its contact. It would have been quite beautiful if the light would stop getting in her eyes when she tried to aim. When she had asked Veil why they were traveling into such diverse places he had merely smirked with his annoying all knowing twinkling eyes and snapped, "Because it's much harder to hit a moving target."

At some point, a girl had to stop asking questions and start demanding answers. Clary was at that point. Ironically, a sword was not the only mysteriously procured item that Veil had in his repertoire. He had also produced for her some battle clothing that made her feel like she could put Catwoman to shame. It was all black shimmering fabric, that seemed one part clear night sky and one part full of stars, but it was brilliant because it was so effective. The warrior's outfit moved with her and never against her. She could not believe how freeing it was when she actually began to fight.

Three weeks of training, fighting and learning to think like the enemy, and Clary was not one step closer to finding out Veil's story. He never spoke of the past, rarely of the future. But, she had grown to trust him in a way that she had never been able to trust anyone before. He was not like Jace at all. His confidence came from a different place. But, the work he put her through kept Jace at the very fringes of her mind, but even Veil could not evict Jace entirely from her thoughts. A week ago she had thought she would not be able to look Jace in the eye if she saw him again. And even though, she knew it didn't make any sense, there was a part of her that was afraid she wouldn't ever have see him again. How would she survive?

A resounding thud and the piercing sound of steel meeting metal, and she was jolted from her thoughts as Veil's own sword like gunmetal lightning brushed against hers.

"If I were an enemy, you would be dead, Clarissa." Veil said as though he were bored.

"No, I really was listening that time," she said in frustration.

"No, you were thinking _about_ the enemy, not thinking like him. I cannot guard you at all times, you know," Veil said.

"Look, I'm not _asking_ you to guard me. I don't believe that really works out well for anybody involved," Clary said biting back her sarcasm and rage.

"Which brings us to a fascinating question, what exactly do you believe Clary?"

"I believe..." Clary's voice faltered. She didn't know anymore. There was a time she would have said without hesitation, I believe in Love, Angels, God. But did she really believe in those things anymore?

"Start with what you don't believe. It helps," Veil said sagely.

"I don't believe in guardian angels." she said finally after some thought.

Veil lifted a brow. "How surprising, even after Jace was reported to have spoken with the angel Raziel after his triumphant return? You don't believe in them?"

Clary bit her lip guiltily. She knew better than anyone even Jace about the existence of angels.

"Guardian angels. I don't think angels protect you." she said averting her eyes.

"Then why do they exist?" Veil said picking up the sword.

"Look, if angels are all about guarding humans, then where was Luke's when they dragged him out in the courtyard and tortured him and killed him? Kinda fell asleep on the job, don't you think?" Clary said a burst of the still raw emotion graveling her voice.

"Hmm, isn't that more a question then of what are angels guarding you from?" Veil said for the first time a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes. She thought it might have been pity.

'Don't. You don't know. You weren't there. Don't go off on your holier than thou soapbox and act like you know for one second what that's like" Clary threw the sword she was holding like a javelin and pierced the target as she stomped away from him terrified he might see the tears unbidden and hot swelling in her eyes.

"Humans don't need protection from death, Clarissa. It's defeat they need the protection from. Death is just a transformation." Veil called after her, then he paused and added, "Congratulations. You hit the target that time."

Jace Wayland was doing recon on the roof of a building on the corner 7800 block in the kind of heat that shimmered tangible and smoky in the afternoon air. The Clave thought that he was avoiding Clary. That he wasn't trying to find her. They didn't know how wrong they were. His body hummed with its desire to see her. What did one do with eyes that ached for sights unseen? How long before every red-headed girl on the street stopped mocking him with thoughts of Clary? It had all happened too fast. He had thought that if the Clave heard her out, they could fix it. They would forgive Clary because of her services against Valentine.

But as the threat of Valentine waned, so too had the patience of the people it had once held enthralled. Everyday, Valentine's voice in his head faded like a yellowed photograph in his memory. He could hardly hear it anymore pushing him further and further away from his friends and family.

A flicker of copper caught his eye from the reflection in the windows of a nearby building. He jerked his head in its direction as a familiar alarm spread through his chest. It looked like a falcon's feather, just kissed by sunlight, soaring up and out. He imagined the bird, unnamed but free as its glossy wings undulated.

_"you taught it to love you"_

Jace blinked to clear his head and a thrill of pulsing excitement shot through his abdomen, the copper wasn't a bird. It wasn't feathers. It was the long glistening tresses of the woman his heart ached to see. Clary. She had been so close to him. This whole time, he could have seen her if he'd known to look in that direction. Clary. So close. So close. Clary. His mind was jumbling the thoughts. He looked around his terrain and tried to determine the best route. There was no time for stealth. He looked down at the street far below and between them. He'd jumped worse lengths he thought with a grin. It was the glass that was a problem. His carefully trained eye sought out any other ways he could penetrate the building and she smiled slightly when he saw a window half cracked, not much room, but enough to wiggle it open if he stood on the ledge. He watched her for a moment. What had she been thinking coming up to an abandoned building on her own?

He'd just have to ask her. He made the jump gracefully but even he had to admit that thirty nine stories was a long way up for such a little ledge. He opened the window quickly and climbed in. He got his bearings, making no sound as he inspected the room the smaller window had opened into. At one time, it must have been a private office's bathroom. Perfect.

It took exactly two minutes and 22 seconds for Jace to reach the room that Clary was inside. He held his breath for the entire time. For some reason, he couldn't shake the thought of that falcon with its twisted neck and unblinking jeweled eyes, looking at him betrayed and limp in his hands. Had he buried the falcon? Had it been so long ago?

With as much authority as he could summon in his voice, he kicked open the office door and walked through it. He had pulled out his stele just in case, but he managed to say calmly, "Clarissa Fray, I've been ordered by the Clave to return you to the premises for further questioning and holding unto a time when they deem fit."

She had been standing with her back to the door but she was so close he could see her every breath pushing the tight black shirt in and out. Her spine was regal, her hair tumbling down her back. She turned with the pristine grace of a Queen and Jace knew somehow instinctively that this was not his Clary. This regal lady was not the same woman he'd last seen months ago. She was breath-taking as she looked up at him with eyes that glistened with a fierceness he'd never seen before.

"Clary?" he said uncertainly unable to take his eyes off of her.

He could hear Valetine's incendiary laughter crackling in his head. The falcon's amber fluid eyes, Clary's piercing angry ones.

_"you taught it to love you"_

**A/N: So, hey everybody, I'm back to posting some chapters. I've been waiting for the build-up between Jace and Clary to be perfect before I put them together in the same room. Now, let's see what happens : ) **

**And I can't help it, I love my own creations too. I LOVE writing Veil, so I hope you like him as a character. **

**And finally, don't forget to keep checking out Center of the Sun (she's a much more prolific writer than I am, obviously) and thanks sooo much for the reviews. Those of you who reviewed while I was typing this chapter really inspired and encouraged me. I'm so grateful to all those who like the idea of this story 3 **

**Please keep letting me know how you like the story. OH, I lied...one more thing...I write a LOT over at my tumblr- .com **

**and I love, love to follow and meet new people, so PLEASE follow me and connect with me. I always follow back, yo : ) **

**Now seriously, everyone have a great week!**


	9. Chapter 8: Tete a Tete

Chapter 8: Tete-a-Tete

"nothing in the world is ever accomplished without passion"

Clary felt her eyes narrow as the sound of Jace's voice became real and tangible and not just a memory in her head. She could practically feel the moment his voice became a solid thing so close she could almost touch it. A strange calm was stealing through her limbs. She had thought that the next time she saw him she would have some kind of physical reaction, that she would be afraid of being turned into the Clave, that she would cry, something. But instead, she was deadly calm. And the emotion that was coursing through her blood wasn't heartbreak, wasn't agony- it was rage.

"Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up." she finally said through gritted teeth.

"Clary, all you have to do is just come back with me. You know you're guilty, why run from your responsibilities?"

Jace couldn't breath. She was stealing all the oxygen out of the room somehow. It was like all he could think, see, smell was her. But why was she acting so strangely? He could only stare at her helplessly as she pivoted on her heel and started to stalk towards him.

"Ha. Oh god, Jace. That's incredible. Run from my responsibilities? You cannot be serious," she snapped.

Her voice was like claws scarring glass. There was something in it that he couldn't quite place.

"How about, I **don't** come back with you. How about, you turn around and exit the way you came. How about, you walk out that door and pretend you never saw me because I can promise you this, Jace, this isn't going to play out like you think it will." she said her eyes flashing furiously as she took a step towards him, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

"Clary, I didn't want to have to force you to come with me. But you aren't leaving me a choice. I have a job to do." Jace lowered his Seraph blade and sank into his fighting stance like slipping into a well-worn overcoat.

"Funny story, Jace. So do I."

Clary attacked first. It caught him by surprise that she could use her slight form to knock him nearly effortlessly to the ground. He gaped up at her.

"What are you doing, Clary? You don't honestly think you can take on the entire Clave by yourself?" He swiped at his mouth a single droplet of blood oozing from his lip where her fist had connected. "What, did you think you could sneak into abandoned buildings and teach yourself how to be a Shadowhunter? You thought you could do that all on your own? It took me years to get where I'm at. How long do you think it would take you?" he said for the first time beginning to feel a little anger.

"On my own? Who said anything about on my own? And maybe just maybe I don't want to take on the whole Clave. Maybe it's just you, I want a piece of" Clary growled.

Jace had moved stealthily enough to hook his foot around her ankle and bring her crashing down nearly on top of him, fast as lightning he rolled her underneath him and pinned her to the ground. It would have been incredibly effective but he hadn't counted on her scent to surround him, to assail his every nerve ending. Without even really knowing what he was doing he threaded her hair beneath his fist and his mouth descended on hers. She made a small sound that might have been either protest or assent but he couldn't resist the sensation of being so close to her.

Jace's lips were warm against hers despite the metallic tang of blood on the tip of her tongue. It was everything she had been missing, everything she had dreamed of for nights upon cold nights. But, he had broken the first rule of training with Veil and she'd be a fool not to take this opportunity. He was thinking about the enemy, not thinking like her. She fell into his kiss passionately, returning move for move, as though waltzing. Reveling in the ecstasy as he slightly nipped her bottom lip between his teeth. It was all the distraction she needed. She did it methodically and quickly, thrusting the knife Veil had insisted she started carrying into the soft flesh of his abdomen.

It was only then that the tears came.

"It won't kill you, Jace. I missed the major stuff, I swear. I've seen you survive much worse. But I can't go with you, not now, not ever" she whispered.

Jace's growl was feral and he could only hope that it would mask the pain that was ripping through his heart and not just his side.

"Did you know that within a three ft radius, a common hunting knife is twice as effective as a seraph blade?" she said softly as she began to shove him off of her.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said gritting his teeth.

"Why is it that every time I see you, Jace Wayland, you are on the ground," Veil said in his usual bored monotone. He was leaning against the wall watching the exchange between the pair as though there simply was nothing interesting on HBO.

"Veil, we need to go now. They'll be coming to help him soon, and I don't want to be here when the rest of the party arrives," Clary said a raw note of authority ripening in her voice. Veil raised his eyebrow. "Very impressive, Clarissa. Your training comes along well. But haven't you forgotten something?"

Clary felt as though someone was wringing her heart out like a sponge, squeezing every ounce of humanity, passion and understanding out of it. She had hurt him. Hurt him bad. And something inside of her was freezing solid. She'd never let anyone make decisions for her again. She'd never let anyone tell her who she was. And she certainly wasn't going to go down without a fight. Even if it might a life without Jace, even if it meant a life without anyone. And still he lay on the ground staring up at her with a dazed expression of devotion in his eyes. Why couldn't he understand that as long as he sided with the Clave, they could never be on the same team.

"Veil…I."

"You want answers, don't you Clary?" Veil interrupted her.

"Of course,"

"He has them." Veil said the magnetic sizzle of his violet eyes meeting Jace's golden ones with an electric hiss.


	10. Chapter 9: The Mark of Cain

Chapter 9: The Mark of Cain

A silence had settled into the flat broken only by the shallow breathing of the man he had come to love more than himself. Every night since Alliance had played out much the same. Alec slept growing weaker with each draw of air and Magnus poured every ounce of himself into his books and papers and hidden magical scrolls trying to find a cure, some way to break the rune, or better yet, some way to fix the rune. Because unlike the Clave, Magnus had understood Clary's position. He did not waste a second of his time blaming her. He was in fact somewhat convinced that she might be the answer to the problem. But, with her life in danger, she could not afford to come out of hiding. The Clave had always been a collective idiocy he could never quite get on board with. He sighed with frustration as he tossed another book into the "absolutely no help whatsoever" pile. He paused long enough to look up at the door which stood slightly ajar to the bedroom. In and hour or so, when the first tendrils of light began to announce the dawn, he would climb into bed beside Alec, who slept like a child with one arm slung under the pillow, propped onto his side. And then he would finally give way to a few fitful hours of sleep, his body pressed tightly against Alec's back…in case, the rhythmic pulse of his body should suddenly cease. He did not doubt that it would wake him. If Alec stopped breathing, he would know. The thought choked him and he unconsciously gripped the next volume of spells so tight his knuckles whitened.

What would he do if Alec died? Magnus turned his head at the thought as if the movement would somehow expel the tears welling at the thought. People often thought that Magnus was emotionless, a mercenary to his own pleasures and desires. And Magnus liked it that way. It had been years, many, many empty years dead as fall leaves, since he had let himself feel this way. He had been the wise observer. The lone voyeur who watched the silly happenings of the mere mortals and their trivial emotions because he knew the kind of pain that those caused. And yet, somehow this slip of a man, still yet half boy had changed everything. Now he sat helpless and afraid, full of emotion, and terrified that he had wasted too much time. Wasted too many years with his cynicism and Alec would be taken from him as punishment. But no, if there was anything that Magnus knew how to do it was how to cheat death. And he would not let that happen.

The creature was drawn to him. He could smell his weakness as a lioness sniffs out blood. It was decadent, even succulent like wine. Shadowhunter blood. The bloodthirst strangled him with desire. Madness held him prisoner. He was the first. An alpha. Given to unnatural desires, for example, like the desire to snatch the Lightwood boy up between his clawed hands and suck out the life force. Vampires had become more genteel in their killing after centuries of it. But he preferred the grisly old ways. The tearing flesh, and the sinking fangs that tore like a carnivore's canines-it tasted better that way. He was the master of murder. He had perfected it. He had given the Washer-Woman the vicious scars she couldn't scrub out. The ones that had driven her insane. He had killed only half of little Celia. Let the other half live out of sheer cruelty. But Lightwood would be different. He would be a necessity.

He was not good at stealth, but he could be patient. He'd waited hundreds and hundreds of years for this. Hundreds and hundreds of years for this kind of release. There was only one real threat and that was the centuries old warlock in the other room. Fatigue made that one weak. But, there was a primal, animalistic power that gave the creature pause as he sniffed the air around the room. Alec's shallow breathing fueled his hunger as though he wanted to make love to him. The creature unfurled its body and staggered, half-formed and disjointed over to the bed. Alec's dark hair in the moonlight look like spun silk, and the creatures talon's trembled in excitation as he brushed it back from the gently pulsing throb beneath his ear. Quietly. Ever so quietly. Long ago, he'd leered over the body of his brother in the same way, his fingers knuckle deep in blood, as he bent his head low, the sweet, soothing memory came rushing back. He was Cain. And he was finally free.

**A/N: SO! I've finally got everything rolling, and now you guys have a pretty good idea of where I am going with this…or do you? Lol. **

**A couple of things: One, I'd really like to take the time to say thank you to all of you quiet, but nonetheless appreciated people who added me to your alerts/favorites. That is so flattering. I really appreciate it so much! **

**Two, so it looks like I'm going to be pairing up with yet another friend of mine to write a Batman and X-men EPIC fanfic. Lol…actually, Our plan as of right now is to have an independent Batman fic, an independent Xmen fic, and finally a crossover fic that wraps up the conflict. So if you grew up on the X-men (like me) or Batman (my new love) then please feel free to jump over and have a look at that in the future. **

**And finally, I'm an idiot. I asked you to follow me on tumblr-and didn't make it available to you! So please…please…please…catch up with me on tumblr, cause I'm always having tons of fun over there. (and I follow back cause I love new friends) So! That being said, FIND ME at sblevins. Tumblr. Com. **

**Also, reviews please? I need encouragement. Cause I like this idea but I'm afraid it's not going over well. Help me out? Pretty please? **


	11. Chapter 10: Unveiled but Never Unmasked

Chapter 10: Unveiled but Never Unmasked

The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight, but has no vision.

Helen Keller

Simon walked until his colossal strength could carry him no further. And when his strength failed him, he sat down at the base of a fanning willow tree and rested his legs against the roots. It was only then that he began to take a good look around. Winter and Spring were tangled in each other's arms in this place. The blades of grass sheathed in crystalline ice, jutting up from the warm earth like icicles or stalactites seeking release in the balmy air. So much of it was fantastic, surreal. But, more palpable than the wind against his skin, was the silence. Unbroken and unyielding. It was eerie to sit there alone in a world that bore no resemblance of anything he had once known. No sirens bleated their demands on the streets around him, nobody shouted or jabbered ecstatically in every language on the street corner. Nothing but the unending quiet. For the first time, he began to entertain the possibility that there was no going back. He would be trapped here for all eternity, lifeless but unable to die. Despair crept like a virus into his blood and finally, Simon cried if only so that the hoarse, broken breath would shatter the oppressing silence.

Simon cried into his hands until his body offered up no more solace and then he slept fitfully in the cradle of the roots. A sunless light in his eyes brought him gradually back to consciousness. It shone into the pupils of his eyes and for a moment, Simon could not distinguish whether it was coming towards him or coming from within him. He blinked and looked up. A woman, naked and ferocious, crouched like a lioness in the cloud of dust rising around her feet. She wore nothing except a simple dark mask around her eyes which only heightened their predatory gleam. She was so near that Simon sprang back and into the trunk of the tree.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he stammered.

The woman's features twisted into something between a sneer and a knowing smile, there was something markedly seductive about her face which some might call classically beautiful. But the ferocity of her corded muscles betrayed an even more dangerous quality than seduction.

"I have come to help you, Simon," she said.

Her voice threw him off balance. It was androgynous. So full of growl it could have been masculine, but musical like a woman's chiming laugh. Snow white hair fell to her hips in cascading currents that lifted breezily in the musky air and her body sizzled with an electric hum. Eyes like shards of amethyst staring intensely as though th could flush his skin with heat.. Simon was overcome with a wave of shyness and he turned his head. She chuckled low to herself and stood straightening her spine.

"Mortals," she said rolling her eyes.

"Can you help me leave this place? My friends need me," Simon said slowly.

"That is something you must do on your own, Simon, but I have come to show you there is a way. I am the keeper of all secrets. You see, in the wisdom of God's creation, He realized that there must forever be mysteries and secrets heavily guarded between the human world and the spiritual realm. In His wisdom, he knew that the allure and power of those secrets would overwhelm a mere mortal and in the pursuit of that power, Man would destroy all that is created. Thus, it falls to me, the bearer of all things hidden, to guard those secrets lest any should trespass here." she said slowly.

"So, like a sphinx," Simon said.

"You are a clever boy. Yes, I was once called a Sphinx. Once called the sorceress Calypso, but you shall find, more inconsequential than skin is names. I have been called many things in my time. But that is enough of me, we must now talk of you, because my time here is very short before I must return to another who needs me. Tell me, Simon, do you know what sets you apart?"

"There is nothing that sets me apart. I am the most ordinary person in the world," Simon said resisting the urge to push up glasses that were no longer there.

"Oh, Simon, how wrong you are. You have been here for three months. Did you know that? Any other person would have been driven into the madness of Cain by now. But you have not. You once drank the partial blood of an angel and it made you a Daywalker. Only someone distinctly unique could have manifested that power. Is it so hard to imagine what makes you different from other vampires?"

"I don't know. I don't understand any of this." Simon said miserably.

"When a vampire is born they lose something of themselves. They lose the key to heaven and must be forever damned. You took back the key, Simon. You refused to let it go. And now, it is the very same key that will open the door home. But you MUST hurry, Simon, soon your friends will need you in ways that you cannot imagine. And while, yes, I have the power to transport you home right this very minute, I cannot do that without disrupting the fabric of the realms. Cain has been freed upon humanity, and no Shadowhunter or mundane or Underworlder will be able to stop him independently."

"a key? what key?" Simon said jumping to his feet.

"I must go now, but listen carefully, go a little ways down this road. There will be tests of your strength, your heart, your integrity and finally you must face the guardian of this world. A guardian who has more reason to hate you than any other you should face. You must show him the key and he will let you pass. But be wary Simon, he will strike you down should you fail."

A flicker of panic shot through Simons body. "But, but, I don't have a key? WHAT KEY?" he shouted in frustration.

The huntress smiled her crooked smile. "I am the bearer of all things hidden. When the time comes, you will know where the key is hidden."

Simon paused to think a moment and the woman turned as if to walk away into the distance.

"Wait, please, don't go. I am so alone." he said desperately.

"Alone? Do you have no ears, boy?" she said her eyebrows arching.

"What?" Simon said and then as if on cue, a whisper fell down from the sky, desperate urgent, pleading.

"_Simon_"

"Who's there?" he cried out looking all around.

"_Simon." _

"Don't you know that the physical body is a mere entrapment of man. Though she is not here with you, you are not alone. Even now, she sits beside your bed with her head against your chest lest you should stop breathing and her world would shudder to a stop. I like that girl, you know, she reminds me of myself." the woman smiled.

"It's Izzy, isn't it. Can't you just tell her I'm ok or something. She's lost so much, I can't stand to see her suffer," he said softly.

The woman paused and tilted her head as though looking at Simon for the first time.

"You know that I have the power to take you home, and yet what you ask of me is to comfort Isabelle. You have moved me, my dear, and for this, I will grant her a vision, a fragment of this hidden world. Now. Go home to her, Simon."

"You said names were inconsequential. But I would like to know something that I can call you when I return home. I'd like to tell her how you helped me." Simon said afraid that at any moment the woman would disappear.

The woman laughed a tingling harmonious laugh as though something in his words intensely amused her before finally casting her sparkling, mischievous eyes on him.

"Well... Clary calls me Veil."

Then the woman's body crumbled over and over on itself the cells of her body dissolving to particles like sand running through an hourglass. In a moment, where there was once a woman there was only dust.

**A/N: ** Hi guys! Finally a new chapter, I know! I've been so busy with Upward Bound about to gear up and then I get to teach Creative Writing! I have the best classes, just sayin' lol! So, I know some of you are dying to know what happens to Alec, but this has to come first. Because you know, I can't help it, I really LOVE writing Veil. But, stay calm and keep reading, ladies and gentleman, I'll return to Alec and Magnus' story soon.

Also, don't forget to follow me on twitter: riskmykiss

and on Tumblr at sblevins . tumblr. com

I've seen StarryOwlEyes do this a couple of times, so I was thinking I might try it out. Review and I'll send you an excerpt of my next Malec chapter : ) Make sure your inbox is enabled though, please!

Have a great weekend guys!


	12. Chapter 11: I'd Rather Go Blind

Chapter 11: I'd Rather Go Blind

_I was just, I was just, I was just sitting here thinking_  
_Of your kisses and your warm embrace, yeah,_  
_When the reflection in the glass that I held to my lips now baby,_  
_Revealed the tears that was on my face, yeah._  
_And baby, baby, I would rather be blind boy_  
_Than to see you walk away, see you walk away from me,_

Perhaps it was the uncanny silence. Perhaps it was the brush of despair that fell against his consciousness like a lone teardrop that gave the creature away. Magnus moved like a shadow, his magical defenses already blossoming through his fingertips with anticipation. It was as though Alec's name was on repeat in his head, chiming desperately over and over again in his brain. He couldn't be too late. Not after they'd come so far. Not now.

The door blew open without his touch. It fell away at his merest gesture. There was a smear of something sticky and glistening on the bed sheets. Blood. There could not be blood. Startled, Cain lifted his head, the fetid teeth and grizzled tangled mane of hair distorting any trace of humanity that might have yet existed. But, in the sliver of the full moon that fell like silk on the bed sheets, Magnus lifted his head and let all the helpless, needless rage flow through his palms. Tendrils of hair the color of a purple-black raven's wing lifted gently and seemed charged with electric pulse. Cain's soulless murder had left no humanity in him, but this man that now faced him was not quite human either. His eyes glowed cat-like, his reflexes predatory and between them only the feral rage, the passion and the knowledge that even now Alec's blood stained the lily white sheets.

"It's just a scratch," Alec's voice seemed to slice through the fog of rage that had temporarily seized his senses. Magnus glanced to the corner, careful not to take his eyes off the creature. It was clear what he'd done. Alec's midnight eyes looked luminous in the moonlight. When he had awakened, he had reacted on instinct and rolled from the bed into a defensive crouching position half-tangled in the comforter. The thick down of the comforter had probably saved his life as it bore most of the ferocious talons brunt.

Alec was panting hard and stared at the creature with a mixture of awe and disgust entwined in his eyes. How could a creature so large be so silent? Who knew how long it had stood beside his bed, staring down at him, preparing for...Alec didn't know what it wanted.

"Magnus...what is that?" he gasped. The creature had settled back on its haunches and was watching Alec's every move with a predatory gleam. It's twisted features were unreadable, scarred beyond recognition but for an instant, Alec could swear it was smiling.

"I don't know, Alec, but don't move. I'm coming to you." Magnus said keeping his voice steady and calm while taking a hesitant but firm step towards the bed. Cain turned and growled at Magnus, the rippling muscles in his hind legs cording as if the creature was preparing to leap.

"No. No, my god, Magnus, we can't predict it's moves. Don't get it's attention. It's unlike any demon I've ever seen," Alec said desperately, his voice coming out small and childlike between his gasps for air.

Cain chose that moment to lunge across the bed frame and any words that Alec might have said were lost to Magnus. Magnus screamed a feral scream of rage and shouted ancient words. It was a spell long thought dead, antique and infused with the power of blood and sacrifice. Everything seemed to happen in stuttered pauses, halts and stops as Cain contorted in the air as though in pain and screamed the shrill, painful cry of a woman. It was a cry unlike they had heard before. Magnus's heart thudded a beat and he heard nothing else. Then a flash as Cain used his thick talons to claw at his face, his eyes screaming in rage. The claws ripped junks of flesh and hair from his face, and left oozing streams of blood running from his eyes. Another pause. Then Magnus swallowed all of his fear, all of his pain and dove at Alec wrapping his arms around him to protect him as best he could, his fingers snatching the blanket around him. A pause of breath as realization came to Alec a second before he knew what Magnus was about to do. His tortured whisper lost in the folds of the comforter as Magnus used all of his strength to push them both through the panes of glass and out the window.

The window seemed to shatter in slow motion too, and the fall graceful and awful at once took the last tendrils of strength from Alec's struggle for breath. Their bodies tangled as they tumbled head first down the to the concrete below. Magnus seemed to never stop thinking and at the last possible second he whispered a simple word which sounded in the night like a plea or a desperate ripple of sound. Gravity unwound itself and forgot the falling couple as their descent slowed to a pause. And then, as though the wind simply sighed, their bodies gently touched the ground.

When Alec finally untangled himself from the comforter, he stood up ready to shout at Magnus but felt his stomach drop painfully as he saw the sight before him. Magnus lay huddled on the dirty sidewalk, the grime of the city tarnishing his perfectly chiseled features. His whole body shuddered violently as though he were possessed. He had depleted whatever strength he had once had. For a moment, Alec thought that Magnus might lie there on the ground, the wet concrete soaking his clothes and give up. He thought he must be too tired to ever move again. Then slowly he opened his eyes and Alec saw a flash of something bestial, catlike, predatory and instinctual in his unfocused eyes. Was this how Magnus Bane had survived all those years? The sheer will that left him unable to die? Was this what love did to a man like Magnus Bane. Alec's eyes clouded but his lover's need of him gave him strength he did not know he had.

"Magnus, he whispered crouching near him, "It's only a matter of time before he finds his way down. We have to move now. Someone has to know how to kill that thing."

"An eye for an eye," Magnus whispered.

"What?" Alec said wrinkling his brow.

Magnus was already moving, pushing himself up off the ground. He staggered to his feet then stumbled for a moment. "Alec, I...I need your help," he said slowly.

"What is it?" Alec said jumping to his feet and taking Magnus's arm.

"I can't see," Magnus said in awe.

Alec looked into Magnus's face as the dawning horror came creeping over him. Magnus wasn't looking at him. He wasn't looking at anything. The pupils of his eyes had split, like a crooked bolt of lightning from a child's hand, and he stared unfocused and blank into the mouth of the alley.

"I was searching for something to cure you with. Some kind of ancient sacrificial spell, I found this one. An eye for an eye." he said moving his head in the direction of every sound, every gust of wind that assaulted in his senses.

"My god, Magnus, what have you done?" Alec breathed.

"I think...I think it's temporary. So I think what I've done is buy us some time." Magnus said slowly.

A crash from above caused them both to fall silent as the beast struggled with its blindness. It was in a feral rage destroying anything that came within the range of its grasp.

"We have to find Clary," Magnus said firmly.

"Um, how is Clary going to be of any use? She doesn't know anything."

"No, Alec, whatever this is...I'm sure Clary is at the center of it. We have to find her, if for no other reason but to warn her." Magnus said again, this time even more sure than before.

Alec lifted his face to Magnus and studied him, sightless and dirty in the streetlights. He lifted his lips until they caught Magnus' mouth. A slight intake of breath danced across the sensitive skin of Magnus' face and he felt it as he had never felt it before. Unable to see Alec, but so aware of his presence in every aspect of his being, every nerve ending tingling with that sensuous awareness. It was almost more than he could bear.

"I love you," Alec said softly. Magnus moaned a short impatient growl in the agony of waiting for Alec to make his move. It was a slow assault of his mouth, his lips caressing the corner of his mouth, then moving as methodically as a heartbeat to his upper lip. Alec ran his tongue across Magnus' bottom lip teasing him into parting his lips for a fraction of a second.

"We'll do this the way you want," Alec whispered close to his ear.

"I can't do it alone. I need you to lead me, to see for me," Magnus said helplessly.

Alec slipped his hand to the nape of Magnus's neck and gripped his hair tight enough to tilt his head back.

"Don't worry, my love, I will be your eyes," Alec said softly before covering his mouth with his own. In that moment, they both forgot about the grime of the city. The rage of the beast above them, the blood trickling down Alec's arm, everything was lost to them. Nothing mattered except for the fragile beating hearts between them.

**A/N: Hey guys! I've gotten sooo many new favorite story adds 3 You, the reader, is what makes this so much fun so please keep reading and enjoying and commenting and finding me on tumblr and twitter. I love you guys so much and I really want to be able to show my appreciation, so please feel free to get in touch with me so I can gush over your awesomeness! Review and see me gush like a fish : ) It's vastly entertaining. **

**Also, sad story time :( This being the part where I tell you a little bit about my life. I am in fact, a summer advisor for a 6 week program for high schoolers! It is the love of my freakin life, mostly because I get to hang out with my kids all day, teach them creative writing in outrageous and entertaining ways, and give out awards for their achievements. However, I actually have to go move in with them and literally LIVE with them for 6 weeks. How does this affect me, you might be wondering? Well, it means that I am on call as a counselor, advisor, mom and friend for 24 hrs a day every day for 6 weeks and that means I probably won't be able to update for EVEN longer than usual. Please stay with me : ) I promise I have not lost interest or left Absit Omen behind. I appreciate you guys way too much for that. **

**That being said: Find me on tumblr and fill up my ask box with YOUR summer plans and exciting things! Or questions! I'll answer any questions you might have? Curious as to why I did something? Ask me. Curious as to what I'm going to do next in terms of TMI? Ask me! I can answer those from my phone : 0**

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**Hope you guys are having a wonderful, hot, sexy summer! **


	13. Chapter 12:  Respite of a Captive Heart

Chapter 12: Respite of the Captive Heart

_All those sleepless nights  
And all those wasted days  
I wish loneliness would leave me  
But I think he's here to stay  
What more can I do  
I'm wringing myself dry  
And I can't afford to lose  
One more teardrop from my eye_

There was a coppery taste in Jace's mouth when the world slowly slid back into focus. The bittersweet taste was masked partially by the trace of watermelon lip gloss that lingered on his bottom lip. Unconsciously, her slid his tongue over the sticky spot on his lip and wondered how it had gotten there. It was quiet in the room. And he was bound, comfortably enough not to be cruel, but tight enough to never let him forget that he was a prisoner. It rushed back to him. Clary's mouth insistent and demanding against his, that flicker of tongue pushing and prodding in a way that she had not kissed him before. She was not the Clary he knew anymore. His heart hovered someone in his abdomen as he contemplated the possibility that this was something she had planned all along. Maybe he had never really known her. Maybe her new trainer was transforming her into someone she didn't even want to be. He imagined Clary kissing Veil but he couldn't stomach it and he closed his eyes and pushed the image out of his head. It took more effort than quieting the pain in his side. A pain that Clary had put there. Willingly. She was not the girl he'd once known, and the old tactics of reasoning with her wouldn't work anymore. That much was clear. But he couldn't bring himself to believe that entirely. He shook his head miserably and looked around the small room they had stashed him in. He wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

The pain in his side was increasing but he used his training to force the physical pain out of his mind. As if on cue, the door opened and shimmering light glinted off of Clary's red hair as she entered. She was dressed entirely in a black stretchy material that clung to the emerging curves of her body with a studded leather jacket slung carelessly overtop. She looked casually sexy like this was something she did every day. He bit his lip in disgust as he felt his body tremble with desire. He couldn't even be in the same room with her without feeling it. He surveyed these changes warily, as a warrior scouts uncharted territory. That's what she was. Uncharted territory. He couldn't forget that. She didn't look like a teenage girl anymore, she looked like a dissatisfied woman as she flipped her hair back across her shoulders and stood watching him from slanted, lined eyes that blinked cautiously like a cat from her stance against the door frame. She didn't trust him. Just as well, she had proven that she couldn't be trusted either, he thought bitterly.

Blood was seeping through the bandage that had been wrapped around his waist. Clary sighed as though it pained her and stepped forward. Jace blinked as her shifting frame revealed dim light from the outside corridor. He was tied to a chair, expertly tied so he knew it wasn't Clary's work, and from this position the outline of the light against her body was deceptive. She was swathed in it light an Angel herself, and he felt his throat go dry.

"Are you gonna stand there and look at me all day or kill me?" he finally croaked unable to bear her silent, assessing scrutiny any longer.

Clary went rigid but didn't speak. Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared so he knew that she wasn't impervious to his voice but she was carefully not giving anything away either.

And then, when her voice, laced with rage, came out of the dim light and dark, it took him by surprise.

"I don't kill people, Jace, unless I have too. I don't stand on the sidelines and watch them die either," she whispered.

The whisper only accentuated the rage. His name was a snarl between her teeth. He felt strangely ashamed for a moment, but quickly reassured himself that there was no reason for shame. He had done nothing wrong. He followed orders and obeyed the Clave because they were the greater good. But a nagging sense of disorder troubled him. He couldn't cover it quick enough for Clary though. She still knew how to follow his thoughts.

"Did you look at the body? When they dragged him out? Did you see what they did to him? Have they killed any other people you used to call friend?" she said crossing her arms.

Jace looked at the ground and then lifted his chin to meet her eyes fueled by a desire to change the subject to anything but that day, "Yeah let's talk about killing people, Clary."

"Alec?" she whispered before she could help herself.

Jace seized the moment and pressed his advantage.

"Almost dead," he said flatly. "One of every partner that you put the mark on has died with the stronger eventually winning out. And that's it. That's all we know about how it works. One of the pair takes sick and weakens until they eventually die. It's unbeatable, all the magic, tricks and healing of the Clave can't compare to it. Guess you got to be as powerful as you always wanted to be," he sneered.

"Oh, yes, I wanted to be the powerful one. I do daring stunts and jump hundred of feet just to prove how strong I am. You know, maybe Jace, you aren't nearly as strong as you think you are," she said.

"Alec only survives because of Magnus' trickery and magic. He's defying death as we speak, but Magnus can't hold out for much longer and then Alec's death will be on your hands too. Not that you are willing to take responsibility for that," he spit out.

Clary bowed her head and refused to meet Jace's eye. But when her head lifted, her spine seemed infused with steel she was so rigid and painfully straight.

"I won't be bullied by you," she said through clenched teeth.

"These ropes are a little tight, honey. Think you could come loosen them up a bit," he said sarcastically pretending to wiggle in the bonds, "I mean, I don't think I'm the bully here."

"I'm not playing games here," Clary shouted loud enough that Jace jumped.

"Calm down, princess, you'll wake your new little love struck puppy," Jace said turning his head away from her.

"Oh come on, Jace, Veil is my teacher and my friend, oh and by the way, THE ONLY PERSON WHO BELIEVED I WAS INNOCENT," she shouted.

"You're not innocent," Jace whispered.

"Maybe not, Jace, but guess what, neither are you," she said her heart squeezing painfully shut at his words.

"I do what I'm…"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear another word out of your damn mouth unless you are answering a question I specifically asked you," she said coldly. Her tone had changed and he knew that she wasn't going to be easy to shake anymore. She was withdrawing from him and he shoved down the feeling of despair that accompanied that knowledge.

"How's Simon and Isabelle? Are they safe?" she asked clinically.

Her voice was sterile-completely devoid of any emotion. She could have been inquiring as to his blood type or his zodiac sign for all the interest that she injected into that frigid voice.

"If by safe you mean comatose, Simon's doing great," Jace said. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted her to feel pain from those words and he wouldn't hold back any punches to do it. She deserved it for being this strange, intangible creature he couldn't quite make out. Where was his Clary?

She didn't even flinch. She gazed steadily at him and then looked at the floor, her boots scuffing a spot in the tile floor.

"He's being well cared for in the mean time?" she said.

"Isabelle refuses to leave his side" Jace sighed and all the air seemed to rush out of his body. He envied Simon that loyalty. He wondered what made Isabelle finally decide to give up that part of herself. And why did it seem so simple for them, when things had become so irrevocably complicated for he and Clary. He would never have her loyalty again.

"Thank God," Clary said closing her eyes and for a fraction of an instant he saw the anguish she was holding just below the surface. He saw her fear. He averted his gaze because even now, he couldn't bring himself to use it against her.

"You should have come with me, Clary. We could have fixed this. You could have accepted your punishment with grace and I could have found a way to help you," he said clearing his throat.

"Would you?" she said her tongue darting out to pass across her lips. "How can you be so naïve? The Clave is not your friend and they use your incredible ability for their own purposes. And they will leave you stripped and broken, why can't you see that? The world is not good and bad…Black and white," she exclaimed.

"Angels and Demons? You know better than anyone that it is exactly that," he said softly. Instantaneously they were both carried back to the night with the Angel. Jace didn't have to see her face to know that she was reliving that moment exactly as he was.

"If I had known it was going to happen like this, I would have asked him to take me with him," she said quietly.

Someone cleared their throat from the door and Clary turned to look at Veil who had tied a tired, ragged apron around his midsection and was twirling a spatula around in his fingers like a sword.

"Dinner is almost ready, Clarissa. I cooked extra. We're about to have visitors," he said sagely and swept regally out of the room.

"Are you going to feed me?" Jace asked sarcastically more to annoy her than anything else.

"Will it shut you up?" she snapped.

"It's bound to get nasty, I'm a messy eater you know," he said.

He was astounded that she didn't even blush, but instead stepped forward and suddenly he was drowning in her presence. She was so inescapably close. She parted her legs slightly to step into the intimate space between his seated thighs.

"What are you doing?" Jace said huskily, his heart pounding.

"I'm checking your bandages," she said and the curtain of her hair draped across his chest as her fingers gingerly peeled back the layers of gauze.

Jace groaned and pretended that he was in pain when the palm of her other hand held her steady by sliding up the interior of his right thigh.

She raised her head and he could swear there was a malicious sparkle in her eye.

"It's best to stay on top of wounds like this. It's bound to get nasty," she whispered.

Jace stared at her sparkling, angry eyes and breathed her in as deeply as he could manage dragging her scent desperately into his lungs.

"God, you guys never stop being pathetic," Alec wheezed from the doorway.

Clary moved so fast she crashed headlong into Jace's chest and he had to grit his teeth to keep from gasping.

"Alec! Magnus! I've missed you so much," she said and flew into Alec's arms for an uncharacteristic but gentle hug.

"Don't untie him, ok, he's my hostage for the moment," she said biting her lip.

Magnus wore dark sunglasses over his yellow eyes and leaned heavily into Alec.

"Oh, I absolutely wouldn't dream of it," Magnus said purring with glee.

"Probably do him some good," Alec muttered.

"I'm right here, guys," Jace said rolling his eyes.

"I wanted to come to you guys sooner, I did. But there's been kind of a lot going on," Clary said apologetically, "But why would you seek me out, you know it's dangerous."

"Clary, we have a lot to talk about," Magnus said, "we have a problem. A big-big problem."

Jace listened carefully to their conversation but he couldn't seem to stop smiling. It took him awhile to realize that even though everything else about her was different, Clary still smelled exactly the same.

**A/N: I know. I know. I know. It's been almost a YEAR since I've updated Absit Omen. But my heart wasn't in it until last night. Now I'm mapping out my ending and I hope people are still interested in reading it. For those of you that come back to read, thanks for hanging in there! My only defense is that I wrote a novel while I was away! That was an interesting and fun twist in my life. **

**I miss your reviews…terribly. So please, please, review. Also, don't forget to join me on tumblr and twitter. I love all of your faces. Catch you later : ) **


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